


An Unexpected Match

by hannelora



Category: Belgariad/Malloreon Series - David & Leigh Eddings, David Eddings - Belgariad Malloreon series
Genre: AU, Futurefic, Gen, Twenty Years Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 21:16:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannelora/pseuds/hannelora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eriond changes old customs in more ways than one. There is no reason why the One Remaining God, should be a lonely god.<br/>Being raised by Polgara and Durnik probably had something to do with his decision to change that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mallorea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Darsynia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darsynia/gifts).



> Time: Twenty years after the events at Korim.

Zakath, emperor of all Angarak, woke up out in his flower-filled bedroom, sensing something was amiss. Even as he struggled to open his eyes, he realized that it was the unfamiliar cold spot on his right side that was troubling him, the place where the center of his world, the former seeress of Kell commonly curled up against him. He hoisted himself up on his elbows, ignoring his cat's protests when she was roughly dislocated from her favorite spot on his chest.

"Good morning, your imperial Majesty." His wife greeted him from the windowsill where she reclined, gazing over Mal Zeth.

"Good morning, my dear. Are you well?" His concern was evident in his voice. Twenty years of marriage had forged a pattern. He was the one to awaken first.

"Hmm," she replied vaguely, driving him out of his bed towards her.

"What is wrong, my love?"

"And lo, the new light of Angarak shall shine when its God shall meet his match, " she told him.

"Are you alright?" He moved into the windowsill with her, easily hoisting her slender frame on his lap, wrapping his arms around her and keeping her there. "You are cold."

"I'm in no trouble, my dear, just a bit astounded, suddenly remembering that passage after all these years."

"The light of Angarak shall shine when their God meets his match?" Zakath asked.

He had developed a sound dislike of these religious riddles when Belgarath had raised them twenty years ago, and knew he didn't have a chance solving the conundrum now. Focusing on his wife's body seemed easier and preferable.

"Doesn't it merely herald the death of Torak and the flowering of my glorious reign?" he perfunctory tried, while he nuzzled her neck.

"The seers have believed that for a long time. Since yesterday I know better."

"You do?" She smelled good, he noticed.

"I do"

"I am not the light of Angarak, then?" he managed to sound faintly disappointed.

"The light of my eyes," she ensured him

"So?" he prodded, smiling.

"Well," she hesitated and stared over the waking city.

"Yes, my dear?"

"Yesterday the God of Angarak came to visit me."

"I didn't know you planned to see him."

"Gods hardly ever make appointments, dear."

"There's that," Zakath agreed, "Rather an unstoppable force, isn't he? Comes with the job, I imagine. Much has changed since he persuaded the Grolims to employ their magic for the wellbeing of humanity. What was on his mind? How can we help him?"

"He wanted to speak me privately."

"He and me both," Zakath murmured, caressing her growing abdomen where the latest addition to their dynasty thrived.

"Are you listening to me, dread Emperor?" his wife asked.

Zakath stopped his ministrations. "I am, my love. Always. What did he want?"

"He thinks he has met his match."

"Eriond? His match? Impossible. He is a God! Even the Alorns and Tolnedrans are starting to notice that. He is well on his way to become the one God of the World."

"Yes dear," she agreed, "Still, he believes it is so. And, if my recollection of our Kell prophesies serves me, he may be correct."

"His match? Who would be powerful enough? One of the old Gods?

"Beldaran."

"Belda–? Beldaran of Riva? No!"

His wife nodded.

"That fine-looking, hot tempered, little redhead that takes after her mother so much?"

His wife nodded happily. "Beldaran. Oh, isn't it wonderful? Ce'Nedra will be so happy."

"Belgarion's daughter will slay our God?" In Zakath's voice incredulity fought with indignation. "Why are you so pleased? Eriond is your God too."

"Love?" His wife turned her head around and tried to look him in the eye.

"Getting in the family business, is she now?" Zakath muttered affronted. "I guess we should be grateful. At twenty she is late. Her father killed Torak when he was not even sixteen. What is Belgarion thinking?"

He paused.

"I will not have it!" he stated forcefully. Some of the old steel had come back into his voice.

His wife stared at him quizzically. "You will not have it?"

"I will not have it. I will stop it, even if it's the last thing I do."


	2. Maragor

"But Gods do not marry," Relg protested when his wife read the invitation aloud. "They never have. It is not done. Not in all the ages of the world. I am certain of it. And it is logical too. Gods are pure, after all, while marriage is ..."

"Yes dear, marriage is what exactly?" Tabia leaned towards him rather ominously, in the process allowing him ample view of her sumptuous body.

"Well… yes … erm," he countered, losing track as she moved closer.

"Why would Eriond not want a bond as dear as ours?" she murmured seductively.


	3. The Vale

"I guess being God is a lonely business," Silk speculated while settling himself at Polgara's large breakfast table. "Being the only God even more so."

"Much like being a spy?" his wife teased him.

They had stopped in the Vale on their trip to Riva, where the first part of the wedding ceremony would be. His four sons watched Silk's every move, now and again scribbling notes for their classes at the Drasnian School of Intelligence.

"A God has no one to confide in, to share his burden with," Durnik nodded. "Being part of a team is one of the pleasures of marriage," he beamed at his wife who was preparing their breakfast.

She paused her cooking and smiled at him affectionately.

"Being the only God is a bit like being Hunter. Or so one would expect," Silk seemed to address no one in particular, but the eyes of his sons drifted towards their mother.

"I guess it might be so," Velvet answered noncommittally.

"How did Garion take the news?" Silk asked Belgarath.

"Not nearly as bad as I took it, when I was forced to give one of my daughters to Riva Iron-Grip."

"There is a bond between these two pups that cannot be denied," Poledra added. "Belgarion could not have stopped them if he would have wanted."

"Did he?" one of Velvet's sons whispered. "Want to stop it?"

"No. Zakath, however, was willing to go to war over it," Silk grinned.

"Eriond is a calm, well-behaved and gentle boy," Durnik said. "who would not want him in his family?"

"God," Silk interjected, "A calm, well-behaved and gentle God."

"A father could do worse, I expect," Durnik said.

But Silk was no longer listening. He eyed the plate Polgara handed him with dismay. "Did it have to be gruel?"

"Gruel is healthy, prince Kheldar," Polgara told him.

"So you keep repeating," Silk replied sourly, listlessly moving his spoon through his breakfast "I wonder why your mother is not eating it though."

"Gruel may be good for young man-things," Poledra eyed the gruel with as much distaste as Kheldar, "but not for seasoned wolves".

"Young?" Silk's nose twitched.

"I'm 62 now, Polgara," he opened negotiations, "surely that makes me seasoned enough for some of those bacon and eggs."

Durnik laughed.

Silk turned to him, surprised.

"In this house, Polgara is young," Durnik explained.

"But she is 5000-something."

"Exactly. So eat your gruel."


	4. Riva

"Please, do stand still, Eriond," Ce'Nedra said. "I don't want to pin this jewel in your chest." The small Queen looked her future son-in-law over. "There, very handsome," she said, finally satisfied.

"He is, isn't he, mother?" Beldaran sneaked herself under Eriond's arm, eying her fiancé dotingly.

"He is." Ce'Nedra tapped Eriond's chest lightly.

Twenty years of Godhood had given the young God an ageless beauty fueled by wisdom and a purposefulness that had grown over time. In his chair over by the fire place, Belgarion noticed that he quite liked his daughter's choice.

"And in two hours he will be mine," her daughter sighed happily.

"There is one matter that we must discuss, though," Ce'Nedra said purposefully.

"Now?" her daughter asked incredulous.

"Now," Her mother insisted. "It is all a matter of timing."

"Then proceed," Eriond said.

"When I married Beldaran's father, I instantly became co-ruler of his kingdom," Ce'Nedra explained. "He loved me that much."

Garion, remembering the 'negotiations', shut his mouth and suppressed a grin. His daughter giggled.

"What?" Ce'Nedra asked.

"You bullied him into it," Beldaran pointed out.

"I did no such thing." Ce'Nedra pursed her lips. "Did I, dear?" she turned to Garion, who knew better than to disagree and smiled at her.

"The point I am driving at, Eriond, is this: what will the status of our beloved daughter, descendant of the Tolnedran Emperial House and the Overlord of the West be, once she is married to you?"

"Mother," Beldaran protested.

"She will be my wife," Eriond said calmly. "I will cherish her."

"How will she fit in the hierarchy of aristocracy? What will be her place, her role?"

"Mother!"

"No dear, this is important. Aunt Pol almost became 'The Bride of Torak'." Ce'Nedra shuddered. " You will need a title a bit more appropriate than that, believe me"

"Please don't mind my mother, Eriond," Beldaran patted her fiancée on his arm, "Tolnedran heritage."

"She has worries," Eriond turned her gently. "She is afraid you will be looked down upon as the Handmaiden of their God, or God's Private Wench by the Angarak nobility."

Ce'Nedra blanched at his words, Garion sat up straighter.

"I expect that that is part of her concerns. Somehow I think there is more, though. Mother?" she prodded.

"As marrying the King of Riva made me his co-ruler, it would seem a good idea when his son-in-law followed his example, wouldn't you agree?" Ce'Nedra let it hang there for a moment ."Will the God of Angarak make my daughter the co-Goddess of his domain?"

"You see?" Beldaran said.

"I don't know that I can, Ce'Nedra," Eriond answered thoughtfully

"You are a God, Eriond," Ce'Nedra pointed out. "How hard can it be, if you really want it to happen?"

"Gods are not created. We are the vessels of the Purpose, uncreated creators. "

"I was there when you became a God," the small Queen insisted. "I saw you being elevated."

Eriond softly shook his head. "It was the error of Torak's existence that was corrected. I was always intended to be the Angarak God."

"Hmm," the Rivan Queen said, unconvinced.

"The battle between the Purposes was a earth-shattering one," Eriond reminded her, "Would you want a destructive event like that to happen again? Creating a God is like the tearing of the fabric of the universe. Is that the price you ask for your daughter, Ce'Nedra?"

Ce'Nedra shook her head. "No," she said quietly. "Not that again. Never."

Garion stepped up behind her and wrapped his arm around her. "It will be okay. Eriond will take good care of her."

His daughter nodded. "Angarak religious heritage involves a lot of anguished cringing, mother. Twenty years of serving a benevolent God, didn't eradicate the fear Torak installed in the eons of his reign. So I'd rather go about anonymously. Travel our realm with my husband, as modest and inconspicuous as grandpa did."

"Grandpa?" Ran Borune XXIII had hardly been unobtrusive.

"Belgareth."

"Ah. Right." Ce'Nedra looked wistful at Garion. "I had hoped on something more ... fitting."

"I will talk to Zakath, if you worry about the Mallorean nobility," Garion promised. "I'm sure he has a way of explaining it to them that will require very little repetition. His aristocracy will catch on soon."

"Of course she can fend for herself too," Eriond added low key.

"She can?" Ce'Nedra asked doubtfully.

"I have gradually enhanced her hereditary magical powers," Eriond admitted with something that came as close to smugness as the young God ever had come.

"You have?" Garion asked. Beldaran had already proved to be every bit as powerful a sorceress as Durnik when she was quite young. Raising her on a small island when she came into her powers had not always been easy. The neighbors had been complaining. Very politely of course, but still. Uprooted trees and flying cows indicated nuisance, no matter how well-behaved one put it.

"I have," the God nodded solemnly.

"Wasn't she powerful enough?" Ce'Nedra asked. Raising tantrum-prone wizards had not been easy on the Tolnedran princess.

"The kids, mother, for the kids," Beldaran glowed.

"Kids?" Ce'Nedra had lost track of the conversation.

"Can't have children out-power their mothers," Beldaran said with a grin, and a gentle wink. "It's impossible to predict what these little half-Gods will be able to do."

"Grandchildren," Garion grinned inanely at his daughter.

"Half-Gods," Ce'Nedra smiled dreamily.


	5. Mallorea

The ceremony on the Mallorean plains outdid the service in Riva in it's splendor and size. As far as the eye could reach Malloreans, nobility and peasants alike, had gathered for the celebration. Grolims were seeing to it that every single one of them could witness the proceedings as if they were right here at the roof of the temple where the service took place.

"There must be over a million out there on the plain," whispered Silk, eying the masses. "Zakath must have confused quantity with quality."

"Somehow I doubt that," Velvet answered. "He seems genuinely interested in converting every last one of his people."

Silk eyed the masses. "What a market!" His nose twitched.

"Will he come?" Ce'Nedra tugged at her husband's sleeve.

"Who, dear?" Garion bend over to her.

"Ul. Will he come?"

"Of course he will come. He performs the rite. He will not let Eriond down."

"Good," Ce'Nedra said happily. "Ul is very found of me, you know."

"Yes, my dear."

 

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;  


 

  


 

  


 

  
And thus it came to pass,   
that a descendant of the house of Iron-Grip   
and the progeny of Belgarath,   
a woman fathered by the Godslayer,   
became consort of the One Remaining God   
and in union with Him amalgamated the divided world.

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Darsynia, I hope you enjoyed the story, and that by placing the tale so far in the future, I managed to stay away from irksome canon violations.


End file.
